


on my radar

by genee



Category: Bandom, Popslash
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The first time they meet it's stupid, Pete and Ashley pretending to dodge the paparazzi in front of Starbucks, Patrick inside still, latte in his hand. Behind him, someone says, "There's another door, you know?" and Patrick turns around, startled, because apparently Britney Spears is trying to tell him something, and that's just? Not possible.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	on my radar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetrychik](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=poetrychik).



> written for the "invent a relationship" meme and prompted by poetrychik, who asked for britney spears and patrick stump

The first time they meet it's stupid, Pete and Ashley pretending to dodge the paparazzi in front of Starbucks, Patrick inside still, latte in his hand. Behind him, someone says, "There's another door, you know?" and Patrick turns around, startled, because apparently Britney Spears is trying to tell him something, and that's just? Not possible.

But there she is, pink sweat pants and her hair in a ponytail, a gym bag that's bigger than she is, although Patrick guesses girls like Britney Spears don't actually carry gym bags. He doesn't know what else to call it. "Uhm," he says and then, "No, it's fine. I'll just…"

She blinks at him, all wide eyes and chapped lips, and he trails off, captivated. She's not alone here, of course she's not, but for a minute it feels like she is, like they are, Patrick's blushing and she's making this silly face, sort smushed up and twisty, and it's the strangest thing. He says, "Uhm. I'll just wait."

"Okay," she says, handing her drink to someone and picking up her little boy, grinning as she swipes her thumb across his chin, eyes only for him. "Who's a mister messy-mess?" she asks, and the little boy giggles, and Patrick feels like he's intruding somehow until she touches his arm, just quick, there and not there and then she says, "Don't wait too long, okay?"

They're gone a second later, Britney, her kids, five or six other people he hadn't really noticed. Out the door in the back and into the big black SUV Patrick can't actually see from where he's standing but he assumes is waiting for them, because, whatever. Of course she has a driver and big black SUV.

 

#

 

The second time they meet isn't much better, Patrick's pissed as hell at Pete for stepping all over him in yet another interview, and he fucking hates these things anyway, red carpet bullshit and lameass parties and there she is, sparkly dress and fake hair and a smile so big and bright it's almost blinding, which is ridiculous because Patrick sees big bright smiles _all the fucking time_. He waves, because he's an idiot, but she waves right back, motions for him to come over. Patrick shakes his head and she sticks her tongue out at him, and Patrick disappears before someone catches him on film like this.

Later she texts him, _don't runaway next time!_ and Patrick wonders how she got his number, knows for sure she didn't go through Pete. Patrick texts back, _thought you were giving me a chance to sneak out the other door_ , adds a little smiley face at the end even though he feels like a total tool.

 

#

 

They text a lot after that, bursts of nothing, of something, email, phone calls. She's surprisingly funny, fiercely protective, possibly insane. She keeps crazy hours and watches way too much tv, and Patrick picks up the phone when she calls, even when he's asleep. There's something about her that's comfortable even though he knows it shouldn't be, they barely know each other, it's just, it's just….

Oh, fuck _me_ , Patrick thinks, because it's just that she's a fuck of lot like _Pete_.

 

#

 

The _I Don't Care/Womanizer_ mashup is her idea, and she's already laughing when she calls, saying, "You know what would be cool?" and giving Patrick three guesses. He misses on all three, but she tells him anyway, his stomach doing this fluttery thing when she sings it the way she thinks it should go, low and throaty like she never really does. They play it on Kimmel first, and she's right, it completely kicks ass. They play it a lot after that.

One night on a whim Patrick intros _America's Suitehearts_ with a quick, "Miss you, B," and kicks up a frenzy on the internets, rumors flying all over, linking Patrick with everyone from Brendon Urie to Butch Walker to Beyoncé, which is _insane_. No one floats Britney's name, though, and Pete sulks for a few days, like it's some sort of personal affront.

 

#

 

Britney says it can't last, this truce she has with the media, how nice everyone's being, how polite. It doesn't seem like much of a truce to Patrick, paparazzi follow her everywhere still, say shitty things, bang their fists on the windows of her car. He hates that she lives this way, but she says it's better now, more peaceful. She's nervous, though, he can tell.

He's pretty nervous, too.

He thinks about how fucked up her life is, how they still haven't spent more than fifteen minutes alone together, how sweet she feels in his arms when he finally kisses her, her dad in the kitchen and the sun going down outside. It's hardly even a kiss, just the brush of her lips against his, warm breath, bubblegum and coffee and the little sound she makes, sparks flying between them, her fingers curling into his shirt.

There's a picture of them in US Weekly, sitting by the window in her favorite Starbucks. It's a lousy shot, blurry, taken from across the street, and it really could be anybody except the caption reads, "Britney and her boys, falling one more time?" and of course, Patrick knows it's them. He remembers that day, that moment even, both of them laughing about something, heads bent close together, Seanie with his back pressed against the glass and a bright yellow truck in his hand, JJ on Patrick's lap, squirming, chubby fingers reaching for Patrick's hat. Patrick didn't even know he wanted a moment like that one before it happened, and then it did, and now the only thing he really wants is more.

 

 

\-- End --


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